


fell down not out

by irrelevant



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vegas, Angst, Episode Related, Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-25
Updated: 2011-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-15 23:06:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irrelevant/pseuds/irrelevant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like double vision.  Except not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fell down not out

**Author's Note:**

> Combined fic tag for 5.19 (Vegas) and 5.20 (Enemy at the Gates). If you haven’t seen both episodes, this probably won’t make a whole lot of sense. It may not anyway.

Sheppard says, “I found him.”

He says, “Tell them I said goodbye.”

Rodney says, “I know what I said, but do not engage.” He says, “Stop what you’re doing right now.” He's not sure anymore what goes where.

\--

 _The Daedalus beams them down maybe a minute before the EMTs arrive. Jennifer starts chest compressions immediately._

 _He kneels a few feet away on sandy dirt and he feels, he’s so fucking useless here. What she’s doing is nothing he couldn’t do, hasn’t done for Lorne or Teyla or Ronon offworld, but this is Earth, not his place. He can’t see past the hole in Sheppard’s chest, the blood painting his mouth. The EMTs push him out of the way and he stumbles to his feet and backs up, turns around and stares hard at what’s left of Sheppard’s ridiculous car._

 _His phone vibrates once. “McKay.”_

 _Woolsey says, “You were right. Radek thinks the transmission made it through.”_

 _All those bullet holes. It only takes one. “There’s nothing we can do,” he says. “By the time we target the right reality and find enough power to send a burst through, they’ll already know.” One way or the other._

 _“That was Radek’s estimation as well.”_

 _“He does occasionally show signs of rudimentary intelligence.” Behind him, Jennifer says, “Clear!” He swallows the desert dry in his mouth, all around him. “Let’s just hope whichever universe just got the message from hell has a compos mentis McKay, and that their Sheppard's still intact.”_

 _Woolsey says, sharply, “Intact?”_

 _He disconnects without answering._

\--

He spends his third night back on Earth in his lab, the theory being that if he’s awake and working, he’s not dreaming. Which doesn’t stop him from hearing himself say things he knows he hasn’t said on an Earth he’s never seen to a Sheppard who isn’t there.

“I’m not really a fan,” Sheppard replies, and he thinks, _Who_ are _you?_

He stands up so fast his chair goes flying across the floor into Simpson’s unoccupied workspace, upsetting her coffee mug and the stuffed blue dragon thing Miko bought for her at an offworld bazaar. He looks blankly at fragments that tell him, _You don’t have to be crazy to work here, but it helps._

He leaves the dragon where it is and walks out, shattered ceramic crunched under his soles.

\--

He walks by Sheppard’s room five times; on his sixth pass the door opens, Sheppard propped against the frame like he can’t hold himself up. He ignores Sheppard’s ironic, “What can I do for you tonight, Rodney?”, pushing past him without waiting. Turns and grabs before the door’s all the way closed, his hands shaking and Sheppard saying, “The hell?”

The shirt doesn’t help. It’s black, not white, but otherwise an exact match. He shrugs Sheppard’s hands off his shoulders and yanks until fabric gives.

Below Sheppard’s clavicle and above his heart. The entrance wound is surprisingly neat. The exit won’t be, he knows.

Rodney blinks away blurred sight, Sheppard’s eyes empty and open to the sky.

“Jeeze, McKay,” Sheppard says, he sounds lazily amused and Rodney knows he’s neither. “Could’ve asked. Anything else you want me to take off?”

“Idiot. _Idiot_. I told you not to.” He has the wings of Sheppard’s shirt in his hands, curled and clenching the fabric, knotting it up tight. He’s close enough to see the individual pores in Sheppard’s skin. He grips tighter, shakes Sheppard, sharp snap of neck and head and Sheppard says, mildly, “Ow."

Rodney shakes him again, “Just shut up.”

His voice doesn’t sound like his voice and Sheppard isn’t looking at him. He’s staring off somewhere over Rodney’s shoulder, letting Rodney do what he wants, _this too shall pass._ “Look at me, you suicidal bastard,” Rodney says, hoarse and wrong but also right, he must have done something right because Sheppard comes down off his cloud and looks at what’s in front of him. His eyebrows go up and then down, contorting into something between a frown and confusion.

“Rodney?”

“You bled out before we could get a medical team to your location.” Rodney jerks his gaze up from Sheppard’s unmarked skin to his face. “You were _dead_.”

“Uh.” Sheppard isn’t distant anymore. He’s just freaked out. “Maybe I should give Keller a buzz, you don’t look so—”

“You died!” Rodney shouts, Sheppard’s shirt wrinkled and sweat-damp in his hands. “You’re dead, you died, and you’re alive. What is _wrong_ with you?”

Sheppard’s laugh isn’t really. “What’s wrong with _me_?” he says, just as Rodney jerks him forward again and their mouths don’t quite line up.

There’s fear sour and sharp in the back of Rodney’s throat. The inside of his lip stings, and he thinks he must have cut himself on his own teeth. Sheppard has a smear of blood on his lower lip; his tongue slides out, flicks once and the blood is gone. He doesn’t move, doesn’t punch Rodney, doesn’t do anything. There’s no expression on his face, nothing in his eyes when he says, “Why now?”

Rodney uncurls his fingers from Sheppard’s shirt. He drops his hands to his sides and steps back. “Was I supposed to wait until some amorphous time of your choosing?” and Sheppard makes a strangled sound, like he wants to yell but isn’t going to.

“ ‘What _else_ would I need?’ ” he quotes, mockery biting heat into Rodney’s skin. “Christ, you piss me off.”

“I? I piss you…?” Rodney’s jaw drops. He stares at Sheppard, mouth open, he can’t believe Sheppard is this stupid. Not too stupid to live, not, never that, but still, stupidest sentient being ever because, “You’ve already got,” and, “You didn’t _want_ ,” and, “How could you not—?”

Sheppard just looks at him, the right corner of his mouth kicked up. Then he says, “Shut up, Rodney,” and kisses him again.

This time Rodney opens his mouth for Sheppard. He lets Sheppard take whatever's left.

\--

 _The EMT says, “I’m sorry, sir.” Rodney waves him off._

 _Shoes drag against shifting ground, going and coming, and Jennifer is standing beside him, he can feel the heat from her body. Her shoulder doesn’t quite touch his. He can see the vague outlines of one or two early stars and the moon overhead. Even this close to Vegas, desert nights are unbelievably clear. And cold. The sun isn’t that close to being down and already he can feel the bite through his suit coat._

 _“He was gone before we got here,” she says quietly._

 _“I know.” He does. Did. Her lips part and he knows what she’s going to say so, “Don’t.”_

 _Her mouth tightens; stiff upper lip, that’s Jennifer. “I guess I’ll see you later.”_

 _“Tomorrow,” he says. Her hand rests briefly on his arm and then she’s shuffling away. A minute later an engine turns over. The last of the day reflects off windshields and raw chrome, one of Carter's teams still picking over burnt metal skeletons. His phone is vibrating; it’s Woolsey again, he doesn’t even have to check. “I’m on my way back in,” he says, and terminates the call._

 _He walks past the EMTs as they strap blue-wrapped weight onto a portable gurney. One of Woolsey’s men in black holds the SUV door open for him. He ducks in and he looks up, into the rear view, watches the chopper’s blades turn, distant thumped whine attenuated into barren miles._

 _By the time he’s out of debriefing, away from Zelenka and Woolsey’s clutches and in his car, outside is midnight cold. He can see the trail of his breath on the air. Tomorrow he’ll be back in Atlantis and staying warm will be the least of his problems. Here, right now, it’s the only thing that matters. He turns the ignition, turns up the heat and drives._

 

bucket goes down the well every day  
someday it won’t come back up again  
-proverb, Virgin Islands


End file.
